


Procrastination

by CelesteFitzgerald



Series: Mimi's 12 Days of Christmas: 2020 Version [4]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28228980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteFitzgerald/pseuds/CelesteFitzgerald
Summary: Paul does everything he can think of to get out of doing his chores. Everything.
Relationships: George Harrison/Paul McCartney
Series: Mimi's 12 Days of Christmas: 2020 Version [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057436
Kudos: 24





	Procrastination

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iamonly17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamonly17/gifts).



It was a gorgeous day. Paul gazed out the kitchen window as the sun crept farther above the horizon. The wind rustled the trees, shaking a few birds from their nest among the branches as they took flight.

George walked past behind him, and Paul turned and smiled. He wrapped his arms around George’s waist and kissed him. “I love you,” he whispered against George’s lips.

But George frowned. “I’d love you a lot more if you quit stalling and did your damn chores.”

Paul scoffed and picked his broom back up. “You sure love ruining a good moment, don’t you?”

“Yup,” George said too quickly, as though he hadn’t listened to Paul’s words at all. He was already back in the living room dusting the coffee table.

“Don’t pretend like you love all this work,” Paul said. “You hate it more than I do.”

“Maybe I hate it because you always find a way to do less than your fair share,” George said, raising his eyebrows.

Paul shut his mouth and focused on sweeping, ignoring the chuckle of satisfaction that came from the other room. He’d just finish his half of the chores twice as fast to prove to George that he took the housework seriously. Then he could steal as many kisses as he wanted.

In his enthusiasm, Paul bumped into the table and sent a stack of papers tumbling to the floor. Sighing, he bent down to pick them up. He turned around to place then back on the table—and caught George staring at him. George quickly glanced away, but Paul swore there was a hint of pink splashed across his cheeks.

It might have been nothing. Maybe George was just breaking a sweat from dusting too vigorously. But Paul couldn’t resist testing another theory. He “accidentally” knocked against the drying rack on the counter and watched a couple cooking utensils fall.

“Oops,” Paul said as he bent at the waist, sticking out his arse as he picked them up. Once he stood up, he looked over his shoulder and bit his lip. “Clumsy me.”

George didn’t look away this time, nor did he make any effort to hide the deepening blush on his cheeks.

“Everything alright, love?” Paul said as he sauntered into the living room. He pressed himself against George’s back and slid his hand along George’s arm until he cupped the hand holding the dusting cloth. “Do you need some help?”

“N-no.”

Paul helped slide George’s hand across the coffee table anyway to “dust” it. As their hands slid forward, Paul’s hips pressed against George’s arse, making George gasp.

“Too far?” Paul said. “Sorry about that.” He released George’s hand and straightened out, pushing his hips forward as he did so. “I guess I’ll just…mmm…leave you to this,” he whispered against George’s ear as he squeezed his hips.

“…Fuck you.”

Paul froze. “What?”

George whirled around and crashed their lips together. “Fuck you,” he muttered again against Paul’s mouth. “How dare you do this when you know we have to work?” He yanked Paul to his feet and dragged him to the sofa, shoving him down against the cushions.

“So, does this mean we’re done with chores?” Paul said as he smirked up at George.

Scowling, George undid the front of Paul’s trousers. “We’ll do this _fast_. And if you’re gonna keep being a smartarse, we won’t do it at all.”

Paul just moaned as George rubbed lube on his dick. After a few more strokes and kisses, George had removed his trousers and lowered himself onto Paul’s cock. It was clear he was trying to stay upset by the way his eyebrows were scrunched up, but it didn’t take long for George’s mouth to fall open and his cheeks to flush as he slowly bounced up and down.

He didn’t lose his roughness, though. George slid Paul’s shirt up and lightly scratched at his chest, occasionally brushing his nipples and grinning when Paul shivered and pushed his chest higher.

As Paul got closer, George rode him faster, burying the full length inside him with each movement. Paul’s hips bucked upward to meet George’s, and he desperately ran his fingers over George’s legs. “George—ah—oh my god, _George_.”

George groaned and stroked himself as their thrusts grew more erratic. He came into his hand and onto Paul’s stomach, and the sight sent Paul over the edge. Breathing heavily, George collapsed into Paul’s arms and nuzzled against his neck.

Paul kissed his head. “You’re a godsend, George.”

George hummed in contentment and hugged him tighter. They held each other for a moment, but George soon stretched and patted Paul’s arm. “Alright. Back to work.”

“Nooo, just a few more minutes.”

“ _No_.” George moved to stand up, but he quickly sat back down. “Well, would you look at that.”

“What?”

“My arse is so sore now, I don’t think I’ll be able to finish the dusting.”

Paul stared at him, and George’s smile grew wider and wider.

“…You clever bastard.”

Laughing, George planted a heavy kiss on his lips and pushed him to his feet. “Have fun.”

Paul flipped him the bird as he grabbed the dusting cloth.


End file.
